The Mosquitoes of Skagit

The railroad station at Snohomish City is located among the pines, and the way the mosquitoes were biting there was enough to keep a man moving. After a while, I asked a native of the country: 'Are they thicker than these in the summer?' 'Thicker? Why, in July there's a million to one.' 'And larger?' 'Larger? Why, sir, one of the regular 'skeeters of this section could carry twenty of these on his back and still fly high.' I thought I'd down him at once, and so I said: 'Now, sir, answer me truthfully. Do you believe that six of your biggest mosquitoes could kill a mule if he was tied up out here?' He looked at me in amazement for a minute, and then went to the door and beckoned in the man sitting on a box. When the man came in the native said: 'William, do you remember that air roan mule of yours?' 'I reckon.' 'And two of them red swamp 'skeeters got after him one morning and ran him down and killed him and devoured both hams and sucked every drop of blood out of his body. William, speak up!' 'Stranger, if they didn't then I hope to be chewed to rags!' said William. I've always kinder suspected that them two 'skeeters had assistance from a horse-fly, but I can't prove it.